


What He Truly Is

by linaerys



Category: BBC Merlin
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-16
Updated: 2008-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-07 07:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linaerys/pseuds/linaerys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin casts a spell to make Arthur nicer.  He didn't mean it like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What He Truly Is

"Arthur is driving me crazy," said Merlin. He dropped a pile of armor pieces that needed polishing on Gaius's workbench with a clatter.

Gaius raised one eyebrow. Actually, to be fair, he always had one eyebrow raised, but now he raised it higher. "Merlin," he said, "why don't you tell me something I do not know?"

Merlin pulled out a bench and sat down at the table. He picked up a rag and started polishing the tarnished steel. He'd been working on a spell to make this go faster, but it tended to turn the armor gold. A bit conspicuous, that, so for now he had to do it by hand.

Something Gaius doesn't know. "I think Gwen has a crush on one of Arthur's new knights."

Gaius sighed. "Something I _care_ about, Merlin."

So that's how it was going to be. Merlin put just a bit of a spell behind his polishing. No one would notice a slightly gold tone, as long as he didn't overdo it.

Arthur really was being even more irritating than usual. Camelot was to have a great festival for all of the major nobles and Uther's allies in a few weeks, and Arthur was drilling his knights day and night. He came home exhausted every night, with just enough time to grouse at Merlin, before falling into bed with most of his clothes still on. Merlin had to undress him. And by hand too, because Arthur couldn't be counted upon to sleep quite deeply enough for him not to notice Merlin working by magic.

Still, that wasn't the problem—Arthur had been easy enough to deal with when he was driving himself to exhaustion every day. No, the problem was when the guests started showing up.

Arthur had begun to notice he was irresistible. At first, Merlin was amused by all the younger daughters who simpered and flirted at Arthur from behind their veils and made eyes at him when he went by. That was normal enough. Arthur would order Merlin to do extra chores to show off his power, but Merlin didn't even mind that.

No, what he minded was entering Arthur's chambers in the morning to find two naked arses staring him in the face. One belonged to a voluptuous daughter of a lesser noble, and the other belonged, unmistakably to Arthur. Those same blond hairs that illuminated the top of his head also dusted his legs and made them golden in the morning light, much as Arthur's armor looked when Merlin was done polishing it.

He rolled over when Merlin came in. "God, don't you knock?"

His companion sat up and gathered her sheets to her. Her smile looked sleepy and satisfied and not nearly embarrassed enough at being discovered.

"Arthur . . . you . . ." Merlin sputtered.

"What? Did you bring breakfast?"

"Uh, no," said Merlin.

"Then go back to the kitchen and get some." He smiled over at the girl. "Bring enough for two."

"Yes, your highness," said Merlin, only a little sarcastically. "And I _did_ knock. You just snore like a team of oxen."

"Do I?" He looked over at the girl. "Do I snore?"

She smiled prettily. "I didn't mind."

"Oh, did you not?" He turned back toward Merlin, who was backing toward the door. "Hear that, Merlin, she didn't mind."

"I, uh, I heard," Merlin said, and made his escape.

"It's like he didn't even care that I was there," Merlin complained to Gwen later.

Gwen smiled serenely. "You are his servant, Merlin."

"What does that mean?"

"Servant aren't quite—look it's a compliment." She plucked a blade of straw off of his shirt. "It means he trusts you."

"I think it means he doesn't think of me at all," Merlin muttered.

"That's trust." She picked up a tray for Morgana and walked toward the kitchen door.

"Maybe I want him to trust me a little less," Merlin called out after her.

That day Merlin found his chores even more tedious than usual. And at the banquet that night, he watched very carefully as the young ladies fluttered and flirted at Arthur.

"Tomorrow morning, I won't bring him his breakfast," he announced to Gwen.

"It's your job, Merlin."

"That's easy for you to say. I'm sure Morgana doesn't carry on like that."

"No," said Gwen evenly. "But one day she will be married, and if I am still with her, it will be much the same."

Merlin suffered a vivid image of Arthur and Morgana in bed the way he'd found Arthur and the nobleman's daughter this morning. It wasn't pleasant.

At the banquet that night, Arthur was well on his way to another conquest, this one a tall blond northern girl, who didn't look like she'd be much more difficult than the last one, when Merlin pulled him aside.

"Arthur, how can you do this?"

"I cannot believe you're interrupting me."

"But she's—"

"She wants the king's favor, or barring that, mine. She's pleasant to look on, and we'll both enjoy ourselves. What is your problem?"

_I don't want to see it_, Merlin surprised himself by thinking. "I—what about her? She'll be ruined."

Arthur smirked. "You think I'm that bad in bed?" He put his hand on Merlin's shoulder. "It's gallant of you to be concerned, but the rules aren't the same for princes. If I favor one of these girls, the lesser nobles must as well, understand? She'll make a better marriage because of it, I promise."

"It just doesn't seem right."

"It's good for everyone, Merlin." He gripped Merlin's shoulder tighter. It felt reassuring, but Merlin wasn't reassured. "Would I lie to you?"

"Yes," Merlin muttered, but he shrugged Arthur off and gave him a begrudging smile. "No."

"Good then," said Arthur, and returned to his lady.

Still, it irked him when he rolled himself up in his blankets later that night, cold and alone, after lighting a fire in Arthur's room, and passing the blonde girl in the hall.

_I know he's better than this_, thought Merlin. _Underneath, he is a true knight. A true knight would be gallant to these women._

_Let him be what he truly is, what his heart desires._ It was just a thought, not quite a spell, and yet Merlin could feel the magic go forth from him. Merlin felt a twinge of concern, but still, it probably wouldn't do anything.

And at first it didn't seem to. At least this time Arthur and the girl were decently covered when Merlin brought in breakfast. For two, just in case. If Arthur didn't want it all, Merlin wouldn't mind breakfasting on cured pork and potatoes with cream rather than gruel.

"Merlin, this is Angharad." Arthur sat up and tugged on a shirt. He looked vaguely embarrassed.

Merlin bowed slightly. "Pleased to meet you, m'lady," he said. "I've brought breakfast."

"Excellent, thank you, leave it there."

Angharad didn't seem quite as comfortable as the girl from the previous morning had. "I'll just be going," she said.

"There's enough for two," said Merlin. Arthur gave him a look. "Oh, right," Merlin mumbled, and left the room.

It wasn't until later, when he was helping Arthur into his armor that anything seemed much different. Merlin had finally gotten good at this, and he could think of other things while putting Arthur's armor on him, like what their great future would be like when Arthur was king. He skipped over the necessary part of Uther dying, and focused on the fun parts, like Arthur knowing he had magic, and them saving innocent people from evil. With the powers of magic and steel, nothing could stand against them.

He tied Arthur's greaves on his shins, not too tight, not too loose. One knot just below the knee, one around the thickest part of his calf, one around his ankle. The armor didn't look too golden this morning—maybe Merlin was getting the hang of this magic thing.

"Merlin," said Arthur when Merlin stood up. He put his hand on Merlin's shoulder, just where Merlin's scarf and his tunic left a gap of skin. Arthur's hands were bare. Merlin had not yet put his gloves on him. "I want to thank you," he said.

"For what?" asked Merlin. He felt very warm, suddenly.

"For being a friend, Merlin. Not everyone would have done the things for me you've done, and I want you to know I appreciate it."

It seemed out of character, but Merlin was willing to take it. If this was what his spell had wrought, then maybe it was for the best.

"Thank you, Arthur." He couldn't keep the smile from his lips. "That means a lot."

Arthur let go of Merlin's shoulder with seeming reluctance, his finger gently brushing the bare skin there. "Well, it's true."

Merlin cleared his throat. "Well, let's get your gloves on, then," he said. He couldn't help but notice how strong Arthur's hands were when he slid the soft calfskin gloves onto them. The fine hairs on Arthur's arms were even softer than the leather. He buckled Arthur's gauntlets on over them, then stepped back and looked Arthur up and down. He looked every inch the prince Merlin wanted him to be. "Good, you're ready."

He handed Arthur his helmet. Arthur carried it under one arm as he left the armory. In the doorway, Arthur looked back at Merlin and frowned, as if puzzled. Merlin simply smiled brightly and waved him goodbye.

That night, Arthur asked Merlin to sit next to him at the banquet, which was strange, and he ignored the sallies from the noble daughters, which was even stranger. Instead he leaned in close to Merlin and asked about the village where he'd grown up, and what were his heart's desires.

"This is very weird," said Merlin. "Isn't that what you ask the girls?"

Arthur glanced down. Merlin had the oddest sensation that Arthur was looking at his mouth. He fought the urge to rub his lips, which he was more aware of than they'd ever been in his life. The moment stretched out. Arthur's thigh pressed against his. In the torchlight, Arthur's lashes painted shadows on his cheeks.

Then Arthur cleared his throat and looked back at Merlin with a little smirk. "I suppose it is," he said. "I was curious."

That night, as usual—at least when Arthur didn't have a girl with him—Merlin helped him take off his boots, and slid a robe over Arthur's shoulders after he removed his clothes. This time, however, Merlin couldn't help but be aware of whenever his fingers brushed Arthur's skin, or the warmth Arthur's body gave off in the cool room.

Usually they joked and Arthur gave Merlin orders and sent him off with a million tasks to do before sun-up, but this time, Arthur was silent.

"Well, I'll just be off to wash these," said Merlin after he'd stoked the fire in Arthur's room for the evening. He was bent down to gather Arthur's clothes for washing, when he felt Arthur's fingertips under his chin. He looked up, and rose slowly, leaving the clothes where they were.

"Merlin," said Arthur slowly, as if he'd never said the name before. His hand moved to the side of Merlin's face, and his eyes were focused, as before on Merlin's lips. _Oh please . . ._, Merlin thought. He didn't know how to finish that, please yes, please no, please . . . anything that pleased Arthur, Merlin wanted in that moment.

Arthur's lips touched his, and Merlin felt so warm and dizzy he might pass out, but Arthur's strong hand held him there, and his lips, oh God, his lips . . . Merlin hadn't known that he wanted this until now, had blinded himself to the pleasure he took in clothing and caring for Arthur every day, never letting himself realize that _this_ was what he wanted, this, and . . . Arthur's robe hung open, and Merlin wanted nothing more than to run his hands over Arthur's chest, his strong, capable arms, feel those sword-callused hands on his own skin.

And so he did, soft touches while Arthur's mouth claimed his, ever more hungrily. _Yes, this,_ Merlin thought, _this is what destiny feels like._ Destiny . . . Arthur . . . his spell—this wasn't natural—he'd made Arthur act like this, and now . . . he broke this kiss, and pushed Arthur away, although it hurt to do so, and the look in Arthur's eyes pained him even more.

Arthur grabbed his hand. "Merlin, don't. You want it too, I know it." His face was still close enough to Arthur's that he could feel the warmth of his breath.

"Arthur," he said, "you're under a spell. I . . . I'll find a way to break it."

Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin's hand. "I'm not," he said. "Or if I am, I don't want it to end. I've never felt more like myself." He pulled Merlin toward him. "Stay," he said, his voice rough and low.

"I'll fix this, Arthur, I promise." He reached up to touch Arthur's face, but pulled his hand away before they touched again. If he did, he knew, he could never find the strength to leave.

He was shaking when he reached the corridor, and he laid his cheek against the cool stones to try to slow the pounding of his heart.

Gaius was writing in one of his medical journals when Merlin returned to his chambers. "Merlin, you look flustered," he said when he looked up.

"Gaius, I think I've done something terrible."

Gaius cleared off a spot of bench. "Well, sit down. Tell me about it. I'll fix us some tea."

It didn't seem quite as bad with his hands wrapped around a steaming mug of tea, but it was still pretty awful. He told the story as best he could, while leaving out Arthur kissing him, and how that had felt. Some things Gaius wasn't meant to know.

"Tell me the exact words of the spell you used."

"It wasn't a spell so much as—"

Gaius frowned and looked fierce. "Tell me, Merlin."

"I said 'Let him be what he truly is, what his heart desires.'"

Gaius leaned back and stroked his chin. "That's not a spell Merlin, that is the prayer of a true friend. And yet you say he is not acting like himself?"

Merlin shook his head miserably. "I must have done it wrong."

"I wouldn't say you have, necessarily. Perhaps Arthur's true self is simply not what you expected."

Merlin laughed mirthlessly. "That's an understatement. How can I undo it?"

"I'm not sure you can, Merlin. The true self, once glimpsed, cannot easily be put away." He looked at Merlin seriously. "Think of it. When you learn something new, you are not the same person you were before you learned it. You will never be that person again."

Merlin thought of Arthur's lips against his, the heat, his desire to touch and be touched. He thought of his jealousy—yes, he could call it that now—of Arthur's conquests. The spell had worked on him too.

"That's true," Merlin said, "but there must be a way."

"You made a true wish," said Gaius, "and you may make another one, but you must want it as deeply as you wanted the first. Can you do that?"

Merlin looked into Gaius's eyes. "I don't know."

Merlin couldn't sleep that night. Instead he took a horse and rode out into the woods, under the full moon, to the lake where he had left the sword, the same lake from which he had pulled Arthur, nearly drowned. "I wish . . ." he said out loud.

Did he truly wish it? The night breeze shivered his skin and made him think of Arthur, asleep in his bed. Merlin pulled his imaginings up short, knowing where they would lead. A king must hide his true self, Merlin thought. I do this for him, for our destiny.

"Please, give him back the tools to hide his true self, if that's what this is," he said into the night air. He felt the glimmer of magic, and for a moment the lake shimmered with a golden light.

It was done. He could feel it. Tomorrow Arthur would bed another girl, would best another visiting knight, and they'd be master and servant again, as always. But Merlin would never feel the same when he tied Arthur's armor on him, and he knew that even if his wishes continued to have such power, he could never wish that away.

He gave the lake one last look, and turned to take the horse's reins from the branch he'd looped them around.

"I thought I'd find you here," said a voice from the shadows under the trees.

"Arthur," said Merlin. "How did you . . .?"

"Was there a spell on me?"

"Yes, I think there was. I—Gaius found a way to break it. Don't tell Uther."

Arthur's skin looked pale in the moonlight as he walked out into the clearing. "There are a lot of things I don't tell Uther."

He looked at Merlin for a long while, and Merlin wondered if he knew, what he suspected, but finally he shook his head and mounted back up on his horse.

They rode back in silence. Arthur flipped his reins to Merlin when they dismounted, and Merlin spent the next hour taking care of the horses. He might have been taking his time about it, he realized as his horse stamped and shook its head when Arthur started rubbing it down for the third time. Merlin sighed and gave the horses some more oats.

He was tired the next morning, and woke, yawning to the sound of Gaius knocking on his door. The sun slanted in his window at an unaccustomed angle. He was supposed to be up hours ago. He had to get up and get Arthur's breakfast.

_Arthur_. That thought stopped him cold. "I'm here, Gaius," he called out. "I'm sorry, I'll be up in a minute."

"I shouldn't worry," said Gaius. "It's not like you have any duties or anything."

Merlin scrambled out of bed and pulled on his clothes. Gaius raised an eyebrow at him, and Merlin hastily smoothed down his hair. "Did it work?" Gaius asked. "Did you break the spell?"

"I think so," said Merlin glumly.

"Good." Gaius fixed him with a look. "Merlin, did you ever hear the saying 'be careful what you wish for'?" Merlin nodded. "Well, I think it might be doubly true in your case. Do be careful."

"I will," Merlin promised. He was careful, he hadn't meant to use magic, but sometimes, when he really wanted something, it got away from him. When he really wanted something . . . an image of Arthur, cool and untouchable in the moonlight, seemed to shimmer in front of him. No, he would be careful from now on.

"I'd better be off. Arthur will be wanting me." Merlin flushed slightly at the words, but Gaius didn't seem to notice.

"Arthur has dispensed with your services for this morning, Merlin. So you can help me."

Merlin passed a fairly pleasant day with Gaius, gathering herbs and making potions, or at least it would have been pleasant under most circumstances. The weather was beautiful, Arthur wasn't ordering him around, and no one was throwing fruit at him or trying to kill anyone he cared about. What could be better?

But all he could think of was Arthur. Why didn't he want Merlin to attend him? Was he embarrassed? He'd been under a spell, so it shouldn't matter, but maybe he thought it did. Arthur's notions of honor were difficult to figure sometimes.

The next day Arthur sent a messenger saying that he was going off on a hunting trip with some of the visiting nobles, and wouldn't be back for a week. He didn't even want Merlin to help him pack.

"I don't know what's wrong, Gwen," Merlin complained when he met up with her in the kitchen, although he did know, all too well.

"Arthur can be . . ." Gwen trailed off. "I'm sure he'll be back to his old self soon, Merlin. He's under a lot of pressure right now, hosting all these visitors."

"Then he should want my help," Merlin protested. Gwen gave him a look. "I am good at some things. Honestly, I'm getting much better at all this servant stuff." Gwen just laughed and left with Morgana's supper.

Gaius kept him busy with errands, but it was still a long seven days without Arthur. Merlin ran over the memory of that night so many times it seemed to shred to pieces in his mind, and he could no longer remember exactly what it had felt like when Arthur's lips touched his.

The day Arthur was to return, Merlin made a decision. He had to see Arthur, no matter what. If Arthur no longer wanted him for a friend, or a servant, it would be best to know now. He heard the trumpets sound when Arthur's hunting party entered the city gates. He could meet Arthur in the stables, but no, they would be crowded. Better to attend Arthur as he went to bed, as always, to remind him that nothing needed to change.

Merlin had the cook prepare Arthur a cup of hot, spiced wine, his favorite thing after a long day of riding. There were butterflies in his stomach as he carried up the wine, and his hands were sweating so much that he almost dropped the cup and had to use magic to keep it from spilling. He knocked hesitantly on Arthur's door.

"Yes, who is it?"

"It's Merlin."

There was a long pause, while Merlin's heart felt like it wanted to leap up into his throat, but finally Arthur said, "Come in."

"Did you have a good hunting trip?" Merlin asked. "I brought you some hot wine. Can I help you with your boots?"

"Stop babbling, Merlin." Arthur took the cup of wine from Merlin's shaking grasp. He took a sip. It stained his lips wet and red. Merlin looked away.

"Merlin, what sort of spell was it, that Gaius found had been laid on me?"

"Uh." Merlin looked everywhere in the room but at Arthur. "Uh, it was a love—no not a love—it was a trick—see, it was—"

"And are you sure it was broken? I mean, really sure?" Arthur looked at him so intently Merlin thought he might faint.

"Yes, completely, one hundred percent sure. The spell is broken." Merlin put on a brave smile and met Arthur's eyes.

"I'm not sure there was a spell," said Arthur softly, glancing away. Then in a more normal volume, "I must discharge you as my servant, then."

"Why? Nothing happened." Merlin took a step forward. "You weren't yourself."

"I fear . . .," said Arthur.

Merlin took another step forward. He didn't dare put his hopes into words, even in thought, and yet . . . "You can tell me. I am your friend, truly."

"I didn't realize it until that day, and yet . . ." Arthur stood only a hand's breadth away from him, and Merlin steeled his nerves and put his lips on Arthur's. It was the same as before, no, better, because this time it was more urgent, there was more of chances lost and regained in the kiss. Arthur's hands cradled his face, then moved down over his neck and shoulders. Merlin lifted up Arthur's tunic and touched his back, fire warmed and hard with muscle.

When the kiss finally broke, Merlin's lips felt swollen like overripe berries, ready to burst with sensation, but all he wanted was more. "Not a spell," Merlin said. He kept his hands on Arthur's skin—because he could, because those memories were real and soon he would have even more of them, because Arthur truly wanted this, and not because of some magic trick. "Then what . . . ?"

"Then," said Arthur, voice low and dangerous, "picking up my socks isn't all I'm going to order you to do."


End file.
